


Finding Out

by VaughnDotEXE



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, I didn't think AO3 tags were hard, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, boy was i wrong, the original character is the boss's brother, twin brother to be exact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaughnDotEXE/pseuds/VaughnDotEXE
Summary: August, the Boss’s brother, finds out something about his life that he never expected.





	Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> I debated for a long time on whether or not to post this as there’s not much in it that references other characters besides Johnny, but I figured why not. I really like this work I have done. Maybe I’ll post my other works as well, I’m not sure.
> 
> August belongs to me, the Boss (Rhys) belongs to my friend.

           When August found out about the poisoning, it affected him in ways he never expected it to. It wouldn’t leave his head.

            _Your mother tried to kill you._

            _Your mother tried to kill you._

            _Your mother didn’t want you so much **she tried to kill you.**_

           Those thoughts persisted in his head as he gently swirled the alcohol contents in his glass. A dull pain throbbed in his left wrist that he opted to ignore for now, instead pressing just a bit harder into his temple with his thumb to distract himself. His ankle rest upon his other leg’s knee, his body sunk into the chair as he stared in the television’s direction. It displayed nothing, but it didn’t need to—not tonight.

           The bronze liquid licked the sides of his glass as he moved it around and around before placing it to his lips and taking a large drink. Most of it was gone in that gulp, but there was enough to last him a few more sips.

           August never would have expected it to affect him like this. He had no idea why it bothered him so much—it’s not like she ever cared about him.

           But _not caring_ and _attempted murder_ are two very different things.

           Green eyes closed, his body resting in the chair perfectly still. Everything had its own phantom pain it seemed—or was it phantom? He couldn’t even tell anymore. He felt both numb to everything and like he would jump off the helipad if someone so much as touched him due to the pain. He didn’t really understand it—maybe it was the lack of sleep and the slight drunkenness that had taken over. 

           He wasn’t extremely drunk, but he wasn’t exactly… clear-minded either. August had already downed a few glasses of whiskey, planning on moving on to a favourite amongst the Abernathy twins: Long Island Ice Tea.

           While he wasn’t as big of a fan of them as Rhys was, the way he mixed them got him a lot drunker than what whiskeys would. On the plus side, he was looking for a little different flavour. By now, the flavour of whiskey was getting old, and he wanted something else.

           The light flicked on around him, and it was hard on his eyes at first, but they quickly adjusted. It still wasn’t enough to bring him out of his mind, though, falling right back into the zoned-out stage as soon as his eyes adjusted.

           He had no idea how long it was before he actually noticed a pressure on his arm, the light around him, and the presence beside him. Apparently, the pain was all phantom, as he didn’t want to jump off the helipad at the pressure.

           Slowly, he looked over to the presence next to him, eyes focusing on his own face. August blinked before beginning to stare once again at his own face.

           No. Not his own face. That must be Rhys. Rhys would check on August if he noticed his brother was out of his (shitty) bed, especially after what he found out. Rhys would make sure he was okay before getting himself his usual Long Island Ice Tea at three in the morning to cope with Johnny’s death.

           Yeah. This must be Rhys.

           “How long have you been awake?”

           August sat there, staring at him almost blankly for a long while before shifting. His right hand dropped down to rest on the arm of the chair, the tips of his fingers lightly rubbing together.

           “Never slept,” he responded nonchalantly, as if commenting on the weather. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t throw his voice. August spoke lowly, relaxed, though a bit rough from the fact his throat wasn’t used to speaking normally. He looked over to inspect his fingers, noticing how dry they were for this time of year. Maybe they were just calloused. He wasn’t sure.

           Rhys let out a sigh, the force of his breath caressing August’s arm. He didn’t pay any mind to it, watching calmly as the oldest twin grabbed a chair and slid it up to him, sitting a little cocked to the left of August’s own chair.

           He leaned forward, both his elbows resting upon his knees as he looked at August. He knew this gesture—this was the gesture to ask the silent question between the two of them. _Want to talk about it?_

           For the first while, August stayed quiet. He didn’t even know how to voice his feelings about the entire thing—fuck, he didn’t even _know_ his own feelings on the whole thing. He didn’t know why he felt like this, whatever he was even feeling. Fuck, this was all so confusing.

           In response to his own mental confusion, he took a large gulp of his whiskey, effectively emptying the glass. Placing the glass down next to his chair, his eyes fell to his wrist. Those bandages were still there, unmoving from the work that they’d been put through. August stared at them a while, a soft huff of laughter following it as he pulled his hand back up.

           “I remember the first time you noticed this.” August didn’t have any idea where this was going. He knew he was drunk off his ass, but _how_ drunk was the question. “I remember you questioned it, and I never answered you.” A finger traced the bandages. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know what happened. I didn’t want to seem weak. I just let people think I sprained it, that I have a burn there. I come up with crazy stories that some people actually believe! Then again, we’re the fuckin’ Saints, people know we don’t play around.” 

           His thumb played with the end of it, played with the little flap that was held together by glue and little grips. With a simple flick, it fell off, and a repetitive movement made the second one follow.

           “You wanted to see it. Just remember that.”

           Slowly, August unwrapped it. His movements were slightly clumsy, slightly shaky, but he was managing. Movement by movement, more and more skin showed, and then, finally, the last bit fell away.

           Under the wraps was pale skin, skin that hadn’t seen the sunlight in many years. Rhys couldn’t see anything wrong with it besides that, though.

           Until August flipped his wrist, showing the underside of it.

           Three large scars showed against his skin, the skin raised and old, obviously having healed extremely poorly. They started a little below his palm, dragging vertical down his wrist, ending about five inches down.

           “I thought this was the first time someone wanted my life to end. Turns out I was wrong.”

           August looked up, watching as a low-key look of horror, concern, and worry took over his brother’s face. He knew this was more than likely going to change something between them—how it was going to change, however, he wasn’t sure. Fingers traced over the scars, flinching lightly at the feeling. He’d forgotten how sensitive they could be.

           “I almost died at ten years old. Kinda weird to think about, y’know? I thought that, y’know, even though Mom didn’t care about me like she did you, she still kinda cared that I existed, right? Like, she still loved me in her own… fucked up way, right? Well, as it turns out, nope! She never gave a singular fuck that I was alive! Well, she cared that I existed, but only in the way that she wanted me gone. Can you _imagine_ that? Ha, here I am, thinking I had a mother who loved me! She was fucked, but she had to love me, right? Because I’m her kid? Think again, fucker! She didn’t fuckin’ care ‘bout you at all! Man, isn’t that just the best discovery? To find out that weird sickness you got when you were younger that made you lose several memories was actually because your mother tried to kill you? It’s amazing! Nothin’ fuckin’ better!”

           At this point, August was rambling, the disbelief in his voice growing more and more as he continued on. His arms were waving somewhat drunkenly now, looking at Rhys like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. The sarcasm basically _dripped_ from each syllable that left his mouth, only increasing the more he spoke. It was strange to see August like this. He wasn’t a quiet person, per se, but he wasn’t normally this… _animated_. It only served to show how drunk he actually was.

           With a loud sigh and both his hands running through greasy hair, he looked up at Rhys and laughed humorlessly. “I’m… gonna get myself a Long Island Ice Tea. I’m gettin’ tired of tastin’ whiskey. After ya down an entire bottle in a couple’a days, you kinda want somethin’ different, y’know? And I know it’s gotta be around three A.M., ‘cause that’s when you usually get up to get yourself a Long Island Ice Tea. So, might as well get one with you right? It gives you the booze you want at this time of night… morning… thing, and I get more booze that I want to make myself drunk. So, in my opinion, it’s a win-win scenario. So hey, let’s go get fuckin’ smashed together.”

            August managed to stand up, wobbly and not excessively stable, but enough to be able to stand and walk without falling over. He began to take a step, opening his mouth to ask Rhys if he was coming, when his brain stopped dead and his words caught in his throat.

           Rhys… was hugging him. What?

           It took August a few rather tense moments to figure out what was going on. Then, his body seemed to know what to do before his brain did, as his arms slowly wrapped around Rhys’s torso and held onto him.

           They both clung to each other tightly, like it was the last time they’d see each other in a long while. August shook in Rhys’s grip, but whether it was from alcohol or emotions, he didn’t know. It was overall an overwhelming moment, something they wouldn’t talk about in the morning, but they’d definitely feel closer as brothers.

           How long they were standing there, neither of them really knew. They just held each other for the longest time, occasionally shifting a bit to hold each other even closer, even tighter, even _stronger_. It was something they hadn’t done in a long time, embracing each other like this. With their lives being so hectic, they barely had time for anything like this. Drug deals, taking out rival gangs, shooting people and getting shot—it seemed to take over their lives sometimes.

           Finally, the two of them broke apart, but still held onto each other’s arms. Whether it was because they didn’t want to part just yet, or the fact August was swaying a bit on his feet, he just didn’t know. His alcohol-addled mind couldn’t figure anything out in this state, especially through all the emotions he didn’t know he was feeling. God, what was even happening?

           “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Rhys said quietly. It was as if he thought August would break if he spoke too loudly—which, at this point, August wasn’t even sure he was wrong. He was far more drunk than he originally thought he was, and with the memories at the forefront of his mind, there was no telling how he’d react.

           August just gripped him tighter with a slow nod, but didn’t move. “... Will you stay with me, like when we were kids, Reeze? When we used to lay next to each other and protect each other from the monsters in Mom’s bedroom?”

           He felt Rhys pause and tense a bit at the memories that flooded back at that sentence, but he was far too tired and drunk to truly process it. It didn’t take long for the boss to respond. “Yeah, of course. Someone needs to make sure your drunk ass sleeps, anyway.”

           And with that, they made their way towards the bedroom, passing out next to each other just like old times.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts: August got his name because I chose Nolan North as his voice in Saints Row IV, and the first game I knew Nolan North from was Tales From the Borderlands where he voiced a man named August. Rhys got his name from the same game, because my friend chose Troy Baker (Male Voice 1) as her boss’s voice.
> 
> August, when talking normally, would be voiced by Troy Baker, but he throws his voice to sound like Nolan North to put some more distinction between him and Rhys among the Saints.


End file.
